“Disappointed. Yes.”

An understatement.

He’d been shocked. Gutted. And the condition of the estate had been only the first of many unpleasant surprises to greet him on his arrival in Yorkshire.

But there was no point in repining.

He’d made his decision and he was bound to stay the course. Not just for a week or a year, but for all time. The children’s future depended on it.

“Has it always been in your family?” she asked.

“Not always. My uncle’s grandfather bought it at the end of the last century. It had been standing vacant before he took residence. The house has a history of neglect.”

“You mean to repair it?”

“I do. And not out of any misplaced sense of vanity. I don’t require a grand estate. Were it up to me, I’d have abandoned the place long ago. It’s for the children I do it. It’s their birthright.”

A soft breeze ruffled her black net veil, briefly shaping it to the contours of her face. “Some might argue that children born outside of wedlock have no birthright.”

His jaw hardened reflexively. “Is that what you believe?”

She seemed to consider the question. “I don’t know. I’ve never given any serious thought to the matter. But I know what people are like, and how unforgiving they can be about anything that doesn’t fit their ideas of propriety.”

“So do I,” Jasper said. “It doesn’t diminish my responsibility to the children. The house is theirs, and the land along with it. I won’t permit it to fall to ruin. Not if I can contrive a way to save it.”

“What about your own children?” she asked.

A jolt of apprehension made him stiffen in his saddle. “They are my children.”

“Yes, I know that. What I mean is . . . What about the children you’ll have with whomever it is you marry?”

Jasper thought he detected a flush of color in her cheeks. It was difficult to tell through that dratted veil of hers.

If she was blushing, he couldn’t blame her. He felt a little warm under the collar himself now he understood her meaning.

It was something he’d never considered. An unforgivable oversight on his part. Of course she must want children of her own. Children with him.

And why shouldn’t he oblige her?

There was little else he was capable of giving her. The house was derelict. Charlie, Alfred, and Daisy were half-wild.

And worse.

Miss Wychwood would have to contend with having Jasper as her husband. His great scarred, hulking self in her house—and in her bed.

His muscles clenched low in his belly.

It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. No opportunities existed in Yorkshire. And on those rare occasions when the chance had presented itself elsewhere, he’d felt no great impulse to exert himself.

He was a dashed sight too romantic-minded, that was the problem.

Perhaps that was what he and Miss Wychwood had in common.

“I suppose,” he said carefully, “a certain amount of my wife’s dowry must be set aside for any children arising from our union.”